


A Demure and Dutiful Pureblood Wife

by skivingsnaccbox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Series - murkybluematter, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivingsnaccbox/pseuds/skivingsnaccbox
Summary: Narcissa was raised for one thing, and one thing only: to be a Dark pureblood wife. And while the Malfoy men mope and smash things, Narcissa does what she was trained to do. And she does it very well indeed.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021





	A Demure and Dutiful Pureblood Wife

“Excuse me, dear. I must see to my husband. You remember the way?” Narcissa asked. Almost before Pansy nodded, Narcissa had abandoned her to hurry towards the sound of smashing. Narcissa would never be so undignified as to run—she was, after all, the Lady Of The Manor—but she sped up ungracefully. The soft-hearted will say it was out of love for her husband. It was not.

“Put it down, Lucius,” Narcissa commanded, skidding into the room and whipping her wand to point at his face. Lucius paused in the middle of the second drawing-room, a Ming-era vase in hand. “So help me Goddess, if you smash that, you are losing that hand, you overgrown child.”

“I apologize, dear wife,” Lucius snarled. “Is my reaction to the potential destruction of this family and the loss of our Lord’s favor inconveniencing you?”

“It is when you go near a Black family heirloom,” she hissed. “If you want to go throw that portrait of the bitch great-second-cousin of yours into a fire, I won’t say a thing. But _that_ is my grandmother’s vase.”

“Twenty years, and you’re still complaining about great-cousin Doris. The woman insulted you one time—“

“She called me a foul, featherbrained floozy, and I’m supposed to just walk by her in my own home every single morning?”

“Yes! Her portrait is a family treasure!”

“Just like my grandmother’s fucking vase.”

Lucius snorted, glancing at the vase he still clutched with a white-knuckled hand. A blue woman glared at him reproachingly, and he glared back then decided it was undignified to have a staring contest with a vase. He returned to glaring at Narcissa. “You loathed your grandmother. I’d be doing you a favor by removing this.”

“And I’d be doing us all a favor by removing you.”

“From my own house?”

“From the planet,” she bit out.

“Don’t bother. Lord Riddle is going to remove me first,” Lucius hissed. “And then where will you be?”

Narcissa raised a single aristocratic eyebrow. “I’ll be living in a house with sufficient vases and teacups rather than a porcelain war zone populated by two overgrown, unclean apes.”

“Are you planning on killing our son, too?”

“If he doesn’t get in a bath, I’m putting him in one myself, and I’m holding his head under the water,” Narcissa snarled.

“Mother of the year.”

“I have to do something to repair the damage I did by allowing you to set a terrible example for our son.” She snorted and said in a falsetto, “Oh no! Something went wrong! Let’s throw things and mope and stop using soap! That will fix our problems!”

“This isn’t about the vase,” Lucius said, his eyes narrowing. “It’s about the beard again, isn’t it?”

Narcissa threw up her hands and almost howled, “You look terrible with a beard! It’s not even grey. It’s just spotty! I don’t care if the world is collapsing around us. You will shave! You are a Malfoy, and you will act like one!” She paused and pinned him with a glare. “Or are Malfoy men just weak?”

Lucius lifted the vase higher, and Narcissa stepped forward, the wand almost vibrating in her hand. They stood at an impasse until Lucius faltered. Narcissa kept the wand trained on him as he placed the vase gingerly on the mantel. He glared at her and, recognizing a superior force, bowed with a flourish. Lucius exited the room with all the pride he could muster. Narcissa watched him go, the faintest smile lurking in the corners of her lips.

Pansy knocked gently on the door frame. Narcissa turned to Pansy with a calm smile, her wand tucked away. “Hello, Pansy. Did you talk some sense into my son?”

“Yes,” Pansy said, a twinkle in her eye. “I had to knock him about a bit…emotionally…but I did it gracefully. He’s in the shower now, and he thinks it was his own idea.”

“Just as I hoped,” Narcissa responded, looking at Pansy approvingly. A proper pureblooded woman in the making.

“Did you talk some sense into your husband?”

“I worked him up just enough,” Narcissa said, smiling. “You will learn, my dear, that sometimes a gentle touch is not enough to soothe an irritable man. You must tickle the sleeping dragon until he uses up his flame. Next time he ventures into my presence, he will have shaved. He wouldn’t dare do otherwise.”

“I see,” Pansy said, gazing at Narcissa with badly hidden admiration.

Narcissa sat in the nearest chair, her legs crossed at the ankles and her back perfectly straight. Pansy sat across from her, folding her hands in her lap. After a long silence, Narcissa said, “He’s just afraid. We’re in a delicate position.”

“Are you afraid?” Pansy asked after a long moment of silence. Her hands twisted in her lap, and she stilled them.

Narcissa’s lip curled. “The Malfoy family has long maintained its power through political maneuvering. Their dedication to the Dark is more of an aesthetic choice, a cultural remnant. I love my husband, but he is soft. Indeed, it’s one of the things I love about him,” she said, smiling softly. She looked Pansy in the eyes, her smile dropping. “But I am a Black, Pansy. I will always be a Black. My family quite literally baptized me in the Dark Arts, and they taught me to value action over words.” She exhaled, smirking. “No, Pansy. Narcissa, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, is not afraid.”

Pansy grinned. “And everyone thinks you’re the perfect political wife.”

“I am, my dear. One can be many things at once, and one should never let go of one’s appearances. But a pureblood woman should also never leave the dirty work to her spouse. Particularly when that spouse is a man.”

“The dirty work?” Pansy asked. She smiled her most innocent smile and said, “I have always valued a hands-on education. Are you in need of assistance?”

Narcissa smiled, the smile of a woman who has seen far too much and enjoyed the experience. “No, Pansy, I am not. But I believe in passing my knowledge to the next generation, and I think you will be more receptive than my darling but rather dim son. If he is going to be dependent on you, I’d best give you the proper tools.” She nodded slowly. “Come back here in one hour, in your most stylish suit and heels. Black, my dear. Black is the color for taking care of business.”

* * *

“Where have you been, my love?” Lucius said when he entered the conservatory two days later, pecking Narcissa on the cheek and sitting down to his proffered tea. She put two sugars and a large dash of milk and placed it gracefully in front of him. She took another sip of her own—dark, intense, just how she liked it.

“Spending a great deal of your money, darling."

“That gown _is_ stunning,” Lucius said. “As are you.”

“Oh darling, I’m so glad you noticed,” she said. “It was the last thing I bought on my little trip.”

The only sound was the trickle of water down the conservatory fountain. They both sipped their tea, and then her husband sighed, rubbing at his temples. “I’m meeting Lord Riddle tomorrow. I haven’t the slightest idea what I will say to him, how to abate his anger at our idiocy.” Lucius drained his teacup, clenching it. “That boy,” he exclaimed, lifting his teacup clenched hand. He glanced at Narcissa and froze. Instead of throwing the teacup on the conservatory floor, Lucius held it out to her. “May I have more tea, my love?” he asked. She smiled at him approvingly and poured him a cup. After he had it in hand, he said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“You shall simply have to redirect his attention to the other ways in which you have successfully achieved his goals recently.”

“What ways? What goals?” Lucius asked.

“You dealt with that idiotic American Ambassador. The one who has been crowing left and right about our recent political issues and insulting our Lord publicly.”

“I did?”

Dobby appeared with a crack. “The newspaper has arrived, Sir.”

Narcissa looked out the window over the lawns and waited, listening to the paper crinkling with perfect serenity. Her husband exploded with laughter. “The fool sold American secrets to the Russians? He’s been arrested?” he exclaimed. “How did you make that happen?”

“I didn’t make that happen,” Narcissa chided. “You did. And I'm afraid that little bit about betraying his country might have been rather untrue, but you always do what you must, don't you, darling?”

“Yes, of course. I do what I must. Including, it seems, framing a man for treason?” Lucius spent the next few minutes reading and chuckling to himself.

“And you dealt with the Czech Prime Minister,” Narcissa added idly.

"The Czech PM?" Lucius asked, leaning forward. He waited with bated breath as Narcissa continued stirring her tea.

Finally, she said, “The one who has been being so difficult on that trade deal and frustrating our Lord’s geopolitical ambitions. He is a very unsavory individual. Did you know he’s been torturing and killing dissidents? And worse, he groped me at that gala two years ago.”

“What happened to him?” Lucius asked, eyeing his wife. “Did evidence of marital infidelity leak to the press? Perhaps a major bribe?”

“Oh no,” Narcissa said, laughing. “He’s dead.”

Lucius spat out his tea. “I killed him? You've only been gone two days.”

Narcissa cast a tempus. “Mmm, you are about to kill him. In a half-hour or so.”

Lucius tensed. “Can it be traced back—“ he stopped short, eyeing his wife nervously. “Of course not. My apologies, my love.”

“I don’t make mistakes.” Narcissa stood gracefully in her chair and wandered to an ornate mirror. She pulled out blood-red lipstick, and slowly applied it as her husband waited. She murmured, “You know that, darling.”

He crossed the room to meet her and kissed her hand. “It’s why I married you. That, and because I love you.”

She patted him on the cheek. “Run along, darling, and tell Lord Riddle how industriously you’ve been working on his behalf.”

He nodded, smiling wolfishly, and with another respectful bow to his wife, headed to the door.

“Darling?” Narcissa called out.

He stopped, turning.

“I noticed a wonderful dark ruby ring and a lovely sapphire bracelet at Malthen’s Jewelers the other day.”

“Consider it done,” he murmured. “Would you like matching earrings for the sapphire?”

Narcissa didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The earrings would appear in her jewelry box within hours.

The point wasn't to own more jewels, though Narcissa did look stunning in sapphires. The point was to remind him just what his wife was worth. The jewels cost a small fortune. Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, was priceless. 

* * *

Pansy recognized the owl immediately and stepped away from the breakfast table to receive her package.

“Is that from Narcissa?” Lady Parkinson asked, barely glancing up from her fruit salad. “Do thank her for taking you on that trip to Paris.”

“I already did,” Pansy replied. She glided out of the orangerie and onto the terrace, where she opened the little velvet box. A ruby ring stared up at her, a drop of blood against white silk. Pansy pulled out the attached note.

_A souvenir of a most enjoyable business venture, from teacher to student. May it remind you of the role and value of a dutiful wife._

_Yours,_

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_


End file.
